


How To Shove a Werewolf Into A Hatchback and Live

by orphan_account



Series: The Hatchback Epic [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Gen, Kanima Hunting, Magic, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Occult, Research
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-21
Updated: 2015-09-21
Packaged: 2018-04-22 16:58:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4843253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Also known as: Stiles has seen many things, but Derek being shoved into the back of a car by a young woman half his height is not one of those things until this moment, but it is now definitely the best thing he has ever seen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How To Shove a Werewolf Into A Hatchback and Live

Derek Hale was suspicious of magic as part of his nature. Well, most magic. Being a werewolf involved magic on the genetic level, though it wasn’t the spoken or acted type that most covens declared it be. If he had known what Stiles was doing, then, Stiles would’ve been screwed.

For the past half a year, Stiles had been taking an online course on practical magic. It was offered through an organization called the Occult Society by a young woman named Bellatrix Aludrasra. He had come upon it by complete happenstance. While researching the history of the Hales in Beacon Hills and the surrounding area, he had found their registration through the Occult Society. Upon contacting said society, had learned that he was qualified to be their liaison. However, being a liaison for a pack of werewolves meant that he had to be proficient in basic magical concepts.

So, there he was. Six and a half months into a magical course that would probably get him killed by a werewolf if the werewolf knew. It was a real dilemma, because Stiles was the only way they were going to find out who the Kanima was.

He shifted from the three windows of Chrome he had open to Skype, and called Bellatrix. It was only like, five in the morning, but he knew she would be awake. They had been learning about locating spells that week that relied on a base matrix to work. But, the base matrix for the spell was for humans, not Kanima, and he didn’t know how to rework the matrix for it to work. The call immediately went to video, and Bellatrix’s bleary face appeared on his screen.

“What the _fuck_ , Stilinski?” she grumbled, eyebrows creasing with annoyance. “Why are you doing this to me? Don’t tell me you need an extension on the paper.”

He nervously laughed, hoped that she wouldn’t curse him, and explained, “I need some help. The base matrix for the location spell is keyed for humans, and there’s a secondary matrix for shifters like werewolves, but I need a locating spell for a Kanima. Kanima have a different base animal, and I don’t think they have the same type of shift as werewolves, so I just need base parameters and then I can—”

“Hold the fuck up,” she interrupted, pushing her glasses on and picking up her laptop. A grumble came from one side of the laptop and she turned, whispering, “Babe, go back to sleep. I have a call.” Bellatrix carried the laptop with her to the kitchen where they regularly had class Skyping sessions. Within view of the webcam, she flicked on the coffeepot and sat back down. “Stilinski, though you are the best student this session, creating a base matrix for a spell is a little above your level. Especially if it’s a Kanima,” her brow furrowed again. “Wait, aren’t those fuckers only in South America?”

“Uh, I don’t know?” he looked down at some of the shorthand notes he had taken when first researching. “But it’s not one of the black panther or jaguar ones, it’s like a giant lizard.”

She poured a mug of coffee, then stopped and squinted at him. “Again, what the _fuck_ , Stilinski?”

“Yeah, I didn’t know they existed until this one showed up and Derek told me what it was, so can you please help me?”

“Listen, I,” she dug into a box that was on the same wooden counter the computer sat on. After a moment, she continued, “I have some paperwork I need you to fill out anyway, and the Society needs a survey of Beacon Hills and the Hale pack. Would it be okay if I drove up there to help you out?”

Completely forgetting the probability that Derek Hale would eviscerate him when he found out this was happening, Stiles replied, “That would be amazing! Uh, could you also bring a copy of _Werewolves and the Cult of Lycaon: Pulling Back the Veil_? Mine sort of…got destroyed by angry werewolves. And the bookstore won’t order me another one.”

Bellatrix sighed and rolled her eyes, “Of course, Stilinski. I’ll be there in, oh,” she checked her watch, “Three hours if I get out soon. I’ll stop by your house.”

“Wait, you know where I live?” he paused in the middle of reorganizing his pens.

“Stilinski, I know where everyone lives,” she gave him a deadpan look and quit the call. He puzzled over that for a moment, before realizing that he still needed to get ready for the day.

Three hours later, he was washing up from breakfast while his dad read the weekend paper. Stiles had spent nearly an hour cleaning, lost interest, played videogames until his dad got up, then got ready for the day and made breakfast. Just as he was loading the last of the dishes into the dishwasher, the doorbell rang.

“Hi, I’m here to see Stiles!” Bellatrix sounded more animated in person, and she steamrolled over anything his dad might’ve said. “You must be Sheriff Stilinski, it’s nice to finally meet you!”

Stiles decided to intervene before Bellatrix could ask any embarrassing questions. He emerged from the kitchen and was met by the most 90’s grunge sight he had ever seen. Bellatrix was a lot shorter in person, at least half a foot shorter than Stiles was, and she looked young enough that she could’ve been in his class. She wore a pair of acid-washed mom jeans tucked into a pair of Doc Martens that looked at least as old as she was, and an oversized grey-green sweater. Her hair was pulled back in a loose braid, and her brown eyes had the same look she got when she was going to assign a massive presentation. In short, a look that spelled certain doom.

“Stilinski!” she grinned, “You ready to go?”

“Go where?” his dad asked, looking at him a little helplessly.

“The library. We have a project,” Bellatrix answered. “C’mon, Stilinski, time’s awastin’! I’ll be in the car!”

They both watched her skip out of the house, and when she was gone John turned back to his son and asked, “What class is this for?”

“History,” Stiles lied, grabbing his backpack from where he had stashed it behind the couch two hours before. “I’ll call if I have to stay late.”

“Stay safe, kiddo,” John waved his son out of the door and turned back to the newspaper.

Bellatrix was fiddling with the cassette player in the dumpy white Oldsmobile when Stiles open the door and bodily slung himself into the passenger seat. She pushed a bag into the back seat/hatchback, and started the car. “Are we really going to the library?” Stiles asked, feeling fluttery and airheaded in the presence of this older girl who was his teacher but also _cool_ and _smart_.

“Yes,” she screeched the car out of the driveway and headed into the main body of Beacon Hills. “Libraries are the best places to research because they’re so full of knowledge. Also, they’re quiet.”

“Uh, there’s a problem, though, because,” he paused, trying to think of a way to word it that would make him seem like the grieved party, but he couldn’t finish. Bellatrix jolted them to a halt in a parking spot right next to the library and got out of the car. She fished a bag out of the hatchback, grabbed him by the arm, and all but dragged him toward the front doors of the large brick building.

The soft-spoken woman manning the circulation desk narrowed her eyes when she saw Stiles. “Excuse me,” she said, Bellatrix immediately stopping and staring at her, “this young man is no longer allowed on the premises. I am going to have to ask him to leave.”

The girl looked at her in despair, then trained the look at Stiles, “Ma’am, please. We really need to work on something for school, and I’ll make sure he doesn’t get into trouble.”

The librarian looked at them, then said, “As long as he doesn’t go near the science fiction section. Go ahead.”

“That was too easy,” Stiles muttered to himself, letting Bellatrix push him toward the large study rooms that dotted the northern wall.

“Compulsion, a light one,” she let go of him and set her bag on one of the circular tables. Stiles set his backpack down as well, looking at her with puzzlement plain on his face. She sighed and sat, pulling her laptop and a stack of grimy books out of her bag. “Magic that compels someone to believe or do something. She wouldn’t’ve let us in otherwise. Librarians are like that.”

Stiles looked at her with suspicion, “So, theoretically, you could be compelling me to do stuff all the time. Is that how you get Masters to finish his essays?”

“No, that’s technically _illegal_ , I’ll have you know,” she replied, pulling out a stack of paper and pencil bag. “The Society banned that because compulsions don’t guarantee that the individual will actually learn. It also sort of counts as plagiarism.”

“O-kay,” Stiles made a face and got his notes out, sitting down next to Bellatrix.

“So, describe this Kanima for me,” she cracked her knuckles and grabbed a pen.

“Well, it was like a giant lizard.”

“Details, Stilinski, for fuck’s sake.”

“Okay, it was over six feet tall,” he flipped through the steno pages and continued, “Black and green scales all over, and really thick. Could also heal very quickly, but not as quickly as a werewolf can. Uh, long tail, if I had to estimate, around five or so feet.”

“For balance?”

“Yeah, and also it was, oh, what’s the word,” he tapped his pencil against his nose, “it could manipulate it and use it to pick up stuff.”

“Prehensile, then. Claws?”

“Proportional, white, can secrete venom,” Stiles shuffled his notes again, brow furrowed. “The venom acts as a paralysis, so someone who has become envenomed is still aware. Can also climb on walls. Apart from all of that, physiologically it wasn’t very different from a human.”

Bellatrix hummed, and finished scribbling down the notes. She dropped her pen, stretched, and turned to her laptop, “Okay that sounds in no way like a Kanima. How much literature have you looked at and what did you find?”

“I googled _everything,_ ” he moaned. “The closest I came to weird lizard-men fitting that description was conspiracy theorists convinced the government was made up of lizard people, and the Serpent Men from Robert Howard’s story “The Shadow Kingdom”. Derek said it was a Kanima, but the only thing I could find that was called a Kanima is those South American were-jaguar things,” he finished, slumping forward.

“Yeah,” she tapped the keys of her laptop. “I’ll ask someone I know. It might be a while, though.” They went silent as she continued typing, and Stiles began to look through the books she had scattered on the table. He had filched her copy of _Cult of Lycaon_ and was thirty pages into _Prehistoric Beasts and their Connections to Mythology, Folk Tale, and the Supernatural_ before Bellatrix spoke again.

“Oh, I completely forgot,” she fished in her bag for a few moments before pulling out a thick manila folder covered in small, cramped writing.  Stiles looked it over. It had his name, address, then a list of number and letter combinations that he didn’t understand. Bellatrix tapped on the combinations, and explained, “These are the registration numbers for the Hale pack. You told us that he had turned three other students from your school. These are their numbers. The last one is your friend Scott’s. Even if he’s in the Hale pack, he’s registered as being a legacy of Peter Hale.” He nodded, then his eyes went down to a final number.

“And this one?”

“Well,” she scratched her nose and looked a little embarrassed. “I know you didn’t want Hale to know about our little…agreement, but you still are technically a part of their pack. Of course, it denotes your position. Any correspondence you receive will require you to know this number.”

“And what is this agreement?” The voice came from the doorway of the study room. Stiles jumped and Bellatrix, on reflex, pulled out a fucking _combat pistol_ from under her sweater.

“I have a permit!” she said, looking shocked even as she said it. Derek Hale paused, his eyes narrowed as he looked down the barrel of Bellatrix’s Mk. 23. She fumbled the gun, tucked it back under her sweater with wide eyes, “Wait, fuck, you’re Derek Hale! Shit, dude, I _finally_ get to meet you!”

Derek looked extremely uncomfortable as he replied, “Finally?”

Bellatrix turned to Stiles, looking betrayed, “Motherfucker, you didn’t fucking tell him? This shit is _important_! My job is important! The future of this pack is important!”

Dropping the discomfort, Derek advanced into the room, eyes narrowed and flashing red, “What are you talking about?”

“Chill,” she fished around in her bag again, “I swear to god I brought my ID with me, one sec’.” Thankfully, it didn’t take her long, so Stiles didn’t have to worry about Derek breathing down his neck. Her ID was all official, with a golden badge on the outside shaped like a shield, with the letters FBSI-OS emblazoned on it. “Bellatrix Aludrasra. I’m the Regional Werewolf Coordinator for the San Francisco area, which includes Beacon Hills. Stilinski here agreed to become your pack’s liaison with the Occult Society, which is an extension of the Federal Bureau of Special Investigations. Your, uh,” she hesitated and looked down at her badge, “your parents were registered through the Occult Society, so we knew about your pack.”

“Why did you not tell me,” Derek growled at Stiles.

“In my defense, I was afraid you were going to kill me,” Stiles held his hands up. “Plus, I only got the paperwork literally two minutes ago, and it isn’t official until I—uh, yeah.”

“Isn’t official until you what?” Derek must’ve been working on his threatening scowl because Christ on a cracker it was _fucking terrifying_. Any reply that Stiles or Bellatrix would’ve made was cut short by the arrival of the librarian, who looked murderous.

“Mr. Stilinski, I am going to have to ask you and your associates to leave. We have had several complaints about your volume levels and given your history with this establishment, you forfeit any warnings.” She stared them down, tapping one foot with surprising menace as they packed up. Bellatrix pushed the other two quickly out of the building.

“Get in the car,” she said, through clenched teeth. When Derek began to growl something, she turned to him, eyes stone cold, and pushed him into the hatchback, closing the door on him. Stiles froze, staring at her, and she merely repeated, “Get. In. The. Car.”

As soon as they were all in, she revved out of the parking space and began driving aimlessly. They were completely silent until Bellatrix all but punched the cassette player and Queen began blasting into the silence. Stiles twisted, ever so slightly, and asked her, “Did you…?”

“No, I didn’t,” they turned as one to stare at Derek, who was looking like he was seconds away from shredding the car.

“Well,” Bellatrix said conversationally, “this is going to be an interesting weekend.”

**Author's Note:**

> there will be more ...


End file.
